


Month of May Prompts 2020

by sweetgoodgraciousangel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi, Nightmares, Violence, and Kroe is uhhh half bird u know how it is, basically two guys just being dudes, bones being purposefully broken and all, chapter 1 is centered around Kroe and blythes friendship, chapter 9 is a short character study on diamond, constellation doesn’t get his own relationship tag, he doesn’t deserve one he’s a POS, medical warning for chapter 11!, warning for chapter 8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23942692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetgoodgraciousangel/pseuds/sweetgoodgraciousangel
Summary: A collection of stories I’ll be updating daily during the month of May as a challenge!
Relationships: Kroe & Blythe
Kudos: 1





	1. holes

Blythe could hear the tell-tale signs of distant flapping wings above him, indicating that he’d stayed up long enough during this night to see Kroe make his return from his routine of soaring the dark skies. They echoed in the silent night, giving the world above a flare of life. 

Leaning back against the hard (and uncomfortable) tile of the aging roof, he closed his eyes and gently slid himself over some as a familiar crow darted through the air above his head. He glanced up at him, watching him make circles above the building. For what reason, he didn’t know—but Kroe himself wasn’t an ordinary bird, so he didn’t quite find it fair to compare his behavior to that  _ of _ a normal one. Maybe he spotted something. Maybe he was just bored and didn’t want his flight to be over yet. Either way, Blythe felt anticipation bubble up in his chest; he wouldn’t dare to admit this to anyone other than himself, but lately he’d been purposefully staying awake and heaving his body up onto the roof where Kroe perched himself until sunrise—mostly because he wanted another rare but precious conversation with him, but also because he enjoyed his company as oddly comforting as it was.

Kroe was… interesting. No holes in his thought or logic, despite most of it being whimsical and purely bat-shit to any ordinary human. But anyone within the walls of this Circus were anything  _ but  _ definable as ordinary. Blythe alone was living proof of that.

The wind picked up around them, and slowly he saw Kroe make his descent toward the roof. His legs jutted forward, and a bright flash of light briefly blinded Blythe before he was greeted with the familiar sight of Kroe in his human form just as he touched the top of the roof, claws gripping the edge and pulling himself upward. As peculiar as ever, with his messy dark hair and his bangs dyed white. Some feathers were poking out from the strands, his black feathered cape wrapping around his body. The most nonhuman thing about him were his legs—the legs of a crow, but large enough to fit a human body. Not to mention his mismatched red and gold eyes. He stepped forward fully after briefly meeting Blythe’s gaze, silently greeting him as he took his perch next to him. He sighed, his face flushed from his short adventure.

“Well, that was fun,” Kroe said, breathless. 

“As fun as exploring the same thing over and over again from the same point of view can be, I guess?” Blythe added. Kroe looked at him fully this time, smiling gently. He never really knew where Kroe went, but it was never too far seeing as he always returned on time.

“Sprout a pair of wings and say that again. When you’re able to see things from my point of view, I’ll accept your criticism.”

“Where do you even go at night?”

Slowly, Kroe willed himself to sit down fully next to him. He can imagine it has to be awkward with his legs, which were not made for the same bendable function like Blythe’s were. He looked away once more, fixing his eyes on the twinkling stars and moon above them. Said moon was only  _ partially _ full, but still nonetheless pretty. Blythe isn’t sure what phase you would call it. Plus, it’s kind of funny to see Kroe get caught up in the sights—Blythe thinks Kroe just has a fixation on things that are shiny no matter what they look like.

“Here, there, everywhere. And some places in between.”

“The lake?”

“That’s one of them,” he answered. “And the old town ahead of that. Plus the bay.”

Blythe raised an eyebrow “Adventurous.”

“It’s farther out than you could travel on foot though. Within minutes I can reach any of those places. It’d probably take you a few hours.”

Blythe snickered. This is the conversation he was hoping for.

“Then take the road less traveled and walk next time.”

Kroe scoffed. “Boring, I say! Plus, do you see these legs?”

He held them up as he spoke, balancing on his hands so he didn’t slide right off the roof.

“Can you imagine having to walk miles with these? It’s a nightmare just doing it regularly around the building! Crow feet really aren’t made for human activities.”

Blythe this time openly laughed. It made the skin of his lips underneath his mask somewhat uncomfortably moist, but still. Kroe always had an odd sense of humor, even if it was at his own expense. Well, they all didn’t work at a Circus for nothing—even if cracking jokes wasn’t exactly his forte.

“So then stay a crow,” Blythe replied finally. Again, as if insulted, Kroe gasped and feigned fake heartbreak.

“Well! I’m not interested in that! If I stay a crow, then I simply couldn’t have a conversation with you. Isn’t that why you’re up right now? Just to see me?”

Blythe knew he wasn’t the most transparent of people, but hearing the proclamation aloud still made him slightly flustered. It’s just that they had a connection that the other two couldn’t quite form with him—mostly because they didn’t  _ have _ anything to connect with. Not that Blythe really wanted to seek it out, especially not with Constellation…

“Hey,” Kroe said, poking his cheek through his mask, garnering his attention.

“Yes?” Blythe said, his head stuck in a thick fog. Before he knew it, the zipper on the front of his mask was being pulled open. The warm breaths from his mouth now made white clouds in the chilly air, and Kroe again smiled. Blythe was mesmerized by the misty patterns swirling around his face.

“You looked like you were about to suffocate. Jeez, you should take that thing off every now and then. How can you breathe through that pleather?”

Blythe couldn’t respond nor did he hear Kroe’s question, but nodded anyway. He knew he didn’t have anything to fear with Kroe, mostly because they were in the same boat but…

The simple action made Blythe feel strangely validated. Neither of them pursued further conversation as they watched the seconds of the night tick away, but they really didn’t have a reason to.


	2. monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blythe has an unwanted interaction with Constellation. Kroe doesn’t approve of crude bullies.

_Monster_.

Blythe was a man of few words. He’d known that about himself as embarrassing as it was to constantly have it acknowledged. He’d come to accept that the less that he had to say, the bigger of a chance he’d have to be looked over. To be written off or ignored. He knew it was a strange thing to want, but it was personal to him and him only. It’s not something that could be explained or understood by anyone else. A consequence of this whole charade being not a lot of people knew a ton about him, and while that might be purposeful...

No matter how hard he would try to hide, his past was inevitably brought to light.

“I—Listen, this is a bit much, isn’t it?” He sputtered, hands gripping his upper arms tightly, hugging himself.

“Is it?”

The words sent a cold chill down his spine. That voice was like a centipede to him, crawling through his ears, leaving them raw and painful. He swallowed the spit gathering in his mouth, as he hadn’t even recognized it was still gaping open slightly.

Dark eyes met his in the shadowy backstage. The sinister energy radiating off of him was suffocating, the air between them hard to breathe. He’d felt this way the moment he met Constellation some time ago, always carrying this creeping feeling in his mind that Connie didn’t like him. That, or the guy just had  _ serious _ issues.

That he didn’t mind taking out on others, apparently.

“Do you know how scared people would be of you if they saw what’s underneath that mask?” Connie said smoothly, far too calm for how twisted and fucked up it was.

“People would riot with pitchforks and torches until you were sent packing out of this town. No one wants a monster here, after all.”

Blythe looked downward, a gasp leaving his mouth. He was trying so, so hard not to cry but the threat of tears stung the corners of his eyes and he knew as soon as he was alone he would bawl. He didn’t have a chance against him. Why Connie chose him to bully like this, he isn’t really sure—he just knew that lately it was becoming a lot, and there’s not much that could be done about it unless Blythe felt like throwing a punch or two. It was becoming tempting. 

But that’s exactly what Connie wants though. He wants to provoke him into doing something beastly, something to prove he had that animalistic nature within him. He knew his origins didn’t define him, but for some reason he has a strong suspicion that’s what made Connie hate him so much in the first place.

At least the feeling was mutual.

“Blythe!”

There was a flash of feathers, wrapping gingerly around a shorter body than his, and someone stepping between them.

Blythe met the eyes of Kroe.

“Heeeey, the lights up front need to be adjusted again—the bulbs were flickering. I’ll help you.”

Not giving him a chance to reply, Kroe’s hand gripped Blythe’s wrist gently and tugged him toward the actual stage. It was really only used to give Kroe the spotlight when he was performing the tightrope act, but just as important as the rest of the Circus of course. He could feel Connie’s eyes burning into him as they disappeared from his sight.

Kroe sighed once they were out of earshot, tugging Blythe underneath some tall ladders they had in the corner of the stage.

“Again?” Kroe hissed, glaring at the place they just came from. “Blythe, for crying out loud, please defend yourself. Don’t let that prick rule over you.”

Blythe didn’t meet his eyes, which seemed to only worry Kroe more.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Kroe snapped. “Don’t you for a minute think any of what he said was true.”

“I know it’s not, it’s just—“ Blythe tried to give a meet response but ultimately failed. Kroe only grew more upset.

“It’s nothing. The only monster in these walls is someone who would purposefully try and make someone think they’re something they’re not. You’re kind, passionate, and gentle. Not exactly a person I would describe as monstrous.”

Blythe was still upset, but nevertheless smiled despite forgetting Kroe couldn’t see it under his mask. He exhaled slowly, feeling more comforted.

“...Thank you, Kroe.”

Kroe’s hand had reached up to absentmindedly pull at a stay feather sprouting from his hair as if he hadn’t been paying attention, yet still managed to offer a bright grin in exchange for the praise.

“Anytime.”


	3. annoyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cromwell hates acknowledging he can be clumsy.

It’s easy for Cromwell to lose patience.

There’s something that’s always guaranteed to make him tick, to go tense in the shoulders and clench his fists. Maybe he was being petty, or childish for that matter, but he personally could not absolutely stand this anymore. It’s embarrassing and well—it grated on his nerves.

Cromwell looked at the piece of paper before him. Naturally, such as a noble himself would possess, his handwriting is flawless and flowed effortlessly. It’s of utmost importance to him to be timely with his observations—especially since magic can be so temperamental, starting and ending with the blink of an eye. 

But tipping his cursed inkwell onto his grimoire was fucking absurd, and even though he has no one to blame but himself, he contemplates just writing everything in blood from here on out.


	4. finger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astaroath reflects on her creation, and the resulting abomination.

It’s no good.

It’s never any good, Astaroath decides. She almost wants to hide away in shame from her lack of ability to produce anything that’s completely pure for this Kingdom. When the hearts of the angelic people came to fill themselves with doubt in Astaroath’s power, she had no choice but to produce a boy of pure light—for, how else would she prove that she has what it takes to protect this heavenly place?

But then that bastard child came along. When her precious Abdiel was born from the light, that monster was born from the dark. Astaroath had tried to justify his existence, but what functioning excuse could she create in order to admit she’d not only blessed Abdiel with life, but also a demon with one too?

Light cannot exist without darkness and vice versa. Astaroath knew this. But it didn’t mean she was pleased with this result—she almost entirely regretted this disaster. She wished she could kill that demon boy with the raise of her finger.

May the Holy One have mercy on her for the abomination she’s created.


	5. clown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mallow is enraptured by Constellation’s ability.

“That’s amazing…”

Mallow’s fascination with Constellation’s ability was _endless_. Maybe she found it to be more of a _wonder_ _of the world_ type of curiosity, but at the end of the day she couldn’t help but justify that by thinking he _had_ to be an anomaly to everyone who had similar abilities. His was nothing like she’d ever seen before, and she couldn’t help but think: how? How strong can it be? How powerful are the illusions? 

Right now, in front of a live audience, the crowd believed they were watching a clown named Romeo perform before them. Everything about it was so convincing, even to Mallow, who wanted to doubt Constellation when he told her he was a creation of his delusions. His voice, his mannerisms, his performances, his grace, his stride—everything about it was so potently original that she felt like she could reach out and grasp him. He was human, through and through. Nothing about him was like Constellation.

Yet, when “Romeo’s” act ended and the curtains closed—just like that, into thin air, he vanished. She blinked, and he was nothing but a memory.

“...Magician.” She whispered, staring up at him. He was smiling gently.

“Of sorts.” He replied, though she hadn’t really meant to say that out loud.

“Nothing like one,” she said, more confidently now that she was shaking out of her mesmerized state. “You’re like a God.”

She saw a shiver go down his spine and a glimmer in his eyes grow stronger. Perhaps she shouldn’t be feeding into this type of behavior, but nevertheless his expression afterward was worth the praise he gave.

  
“Ooh, I  _ like _ the sound of that.”


	6. gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kroe gives Blythe a strange gift. He’s not sure why, but he doesn’t question it... for too long.

“Here.”

Something soft was pressed into the middle of Blythe’s palm and before he could fully understand what was happening, Kroe brushed past him without another word and opened the small fridge behind him. He ducked down to investigate the contents while Blythe unraveled his fingers to look at what he guessed was a gift, and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Kroe.”

“Yeah?”

“This is one of your feathers?”

“Yep.”

There was a popping sound, and Blythe turned around to see Kroe indulging in one of the many sodas he kept well stocked in the building. Blythe couldn’t be anymore confused, cradling the feather gently. Kroe finally met his gaze after lowering the can from his mouth, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Uh. Why?”

“Why what?”

Blythe gaped. Is he serious?

“Why… did you give me this?”

Kroe set the can down on his side table, plopping down in his plush and comfortable seat that he currently had different soft blankets piling up on. Blythe would never admit it, but he was curious—is this him… building a nest of sorts? He didn’t really care to think about it right now.

“I was preening this morning and when I shifted back into my human form, that feather was sticking out of my hair. It was uncomfortable so I plucked it. Thought you would like it.”

Because that made any sort of sense. 

“I mean... it’s pretty,” Blythe mused. It was solid black but still had a sort of shimmering sheen on it. Kroe nodded.

“Yep. You’re welcome.”

“R...Right. Thanks.”

As absolutely strange and absurd it was, Blythe supposed he was a little bit touched. Right? This is how gifts worked. It wasn’t a very big feather, but he could agree that if it was sticking out of his hair from his scalp it would likely be irritable. Still, he made sure to place it gently near his things where he rested and slept. 

The next day, Blythe managed to find some extra wires and chains from unused costume materials that they never used. He carefully threaded the feather onto the chain, wearing it around his neck and letting the feather rest underneath the material of his shirt.

Kroe noticed, but instead of acknowledging it out loud, he smiled at him.


	7. rope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kroe thinks being able to shape-shift into a bird is really not that interesting. Blythe begs to differ.

“It’s not that impressive,” 

Kroe was looping several feet of rope around his left hand, clutching it tightly to ensure it didn’t unravel. It was strong and sturdy, made to hold the weight of a person. He turned to face Blythe, wearing a rather blatantly blasé expression. Blythe noticed that was something Kroe tended to do—he was either enthralled with what he was talking about, or disinterested. No in between or exceptions.

“Seriously, look at any crow or pigeon outside on a wire. Any bird can balance itself on a thin material. People don’t come to watch my act because they’re interested in the “talent” aspect of it—if you can even call it that. They come because they want to see my ability. From man to bird. To me, it’s an everyday thing so I can’t really explain why people are so impressed. But I suppose to any ordinary human, a certain amount of strange power is fascinating no matter how mundane it may actually be in theory.”

Blythe couldn’t help but scoff. It was done fondly, but what Kroe was stating was eye roll worthy. 

Kroe raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You say it’s mundane or uninteresting, but you forget I woke up the other morning to a certain bird pulling at my hair. I’d say that alone is fascinating.”

Kroe flushed, forgetting the rope all together as he tossed it down into a pile relatively near where they kept all of their extra supplies.

“I told you, I was _preening_ your hair okay!? It looked like the worst case of bedhead I’d ever seen!”


	8. whisper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mika reflects on what was surely going to lead to the downfall of this Circus.

When Mika heard the first foreshadowing signs that things were finally taking a turn for the worse in this Circus, he made sure to pack up his favorite fabrics in his old backpack and stick it somewhere safe in his room. 

He had a feeling things were going to turn out like this, but it still struck him pretty hard with the realization that he was likely going to be out of this job soon. There should probably be bigger things than that to be concerned about, but Mika had to be honest—he made himself scarce around the trouble, as it didn’t call to him to get involved. Yet. He can’t say he’s been tempted a couple of times, but Kroe apparently took on the job of fighting for whatever justice he could. 

Not that Mallow or Constellation cared. 

The first big incident had been a shouting match between Kroe and Constellation. He was in the back of the building, occupied with neon fabrics and a new pattern for an outfit he’d thought to offer to one of the performers when it started. It was sharp and startling, enough that it made him nearly leap out of his skin. Standing up, he made his way over to the door and peeked down the hallway, where he saw a very angry Kroe—red in the face, fists clenched—shouting profanities in the face of Constellation, who was equally as irate. 

Mallow was enjoying the chaos in the background while Blythe hung his head, clearly upset. Ah, that must have started it. Mika had his suspicions that Constellation was targeting Blythe in some jokes that were completely manufactured from poor taste, but it seemed Kroe must have caught the tail end of one. Even a stranger could tell Blythe had major insecurities, so any kind of blatant targeting like that would hurt. Kroe apparently wasn’t going to tolerate it.

It ended with Kroe storming away, pulling Blythe by his wrist. The two retreated back into Kroe’s room which was up the stairs, leaving Constellation visibly seething. He must have not liked that his little bout of  _ fun _ was interrupted.

Mika had awkwardly gone back to sewing, deciding it wasn’t really the best time to show his face around either party at the moment. Though it resulted in some major errors in the pattern, seeing as he could barely focus. It worried him, of course, that someone in the building was causing horrific issues. But Mika was… not the type to throw punches or raise his voice. Not to mention Constellation… scared him quite a bit.

The second incident though was probably the tipping point for this whole disaster.

Again, Mika had been working. He was working on threading up his sewing machine when there was an ear-splitting shout, a loud thump, and all hell breaking loose afterward. Someone was screaming in pain. Mika without thinking had scrambled to run to the door, turning down the hall and bolting toward where the commotion was coming from.

What he saw was… awful.

Blythe was on the ground, a ladder tipped over beside of him, cradling his arm that was bending in a way that should not be humanly possible… and a rather amused Constellation standing off to the side, feigning fake concern. 

Kroe was standing off to the side, shaking, face red. He looked like he was about to charge.

“I saw you!” Kroe exclaimed. “You pushed the ladder over while he was on it! Don’t play stupid with me!”

“You have no proof,” Constellation replied, far too calm for the scene before him. Mika finally tore his eyes off the two that were more likely than not about to start swinging at one another and chose to kneel on the ground beside of Blythe, who was sobbing and in way too much pain to stand on his own or defend himself. That arm… was unsightly. He wasn’t sure what he could do to comfort the man, but gently put his hand on his back, looking up to Kroe.

“We need to get him help—“ Mika had said aloud, to which Constellation snickered. Mika glared the best he could. While he didn’t see what happened, it wasn’t too out of the question to think he really had pushed Blythe over while on the ladder.

“The nearest hospital is quite a few hours away… tragic, isn’t it? We didn’t pick the  _ best _ spot for this Circus, now did we?”

He narrowed his eyes smugly and grinned down at them all.

“Isn’t that right, Kroe?”

Kroe swung first.

The rest of that night had been a blur to Mika. Much to his dismay, Constellation had been right—the closest place they could take Blythe for help was far off somewhere that would be impossible to reach comfortably while Blythe was in this condition. It wasn’t a journey that could be made overnight, that was for sure. None of them even had cars, and well… it left them with very few options. Kroe said he was going to look into maybe finding doctors that lived in the town they were closest to, while Mika had picked some sturdy fabrics to cut up into shreds and work on making a make-shift cast for Blythe. He’d blacked out from the pain unfortunately.

Reflecting on the two disasters, Mika couldn’t help but feel dread building up in his chest.

The Circus lately has been drawing in masses of people too. This was the most booming their show had ever been. Mika was able to sew extravagant costumes, get as creative and colorful as he’d liked. That’s what made him so fond of this position. There were really no limitations on the things he could make, unlike past gigs where he got stuck sewing the same cookie cutter patterns for suits and dresses. Sure, they kept his hands and mind occupied but it still by far was not his favorite thing by any means to make. 

Mika could only hope whatever he found next was just as good as this had been, because it’s obvious it wasn’t going to last.

**_..._ **

Mika ran a hand through his hair as he flopped back onto his bed, fingers bumping against his horns. He’d shrugged off his favorite coat and hung it by the door to his room. He carried on work like usual, despite debating saving what of his materials he could before this whole thing was smashed to bits.

He was hungry, but had made himself far too comfortable laying down to want to get back up and eat. He pulled his quilt over his body and shivered contently as the chill in his room was blocked out, comforted by the smell and weight of hand-sewn gift he’d received from an old companion many years ago. 

He could go for a nap, he supposed…

That is, until a gunshot tore through the quiet atmosphere of his room, loud enough that it made his ears ring slightly.

He bolted upright, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed.

That had been directly outside of his room. There was shouting—no,  _ screaming— _ coming from the bottom floor of the building. Doors were being thrown open and slammed shut, and Mika stumbled over to the window just in time to see a black bird with its feathers stained red falling rapidly to the Earth. 

Blythe, struggling because of his broken arm, was in hysterics.

“Holy shit,” Mika whispered.

He felt his blood run cold, nausea settling in the pit of his stomach.

Maybe it’s not too late to get involved after all.


	9. Diamond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short character study looking into Diamonds thoughts.

It’s too late at night to be thinking this much, Diamond thought.

Everyone else had fallen asleep, curled relatively close to the campfire that was beginning to simmer down and cool. They watched as the remaining flames licked at the random tree branches and leaves they tossed into the pile, and they thought to throw more into it to keep it alive for a little while longer, but opted not to in the end. There was no way they were gonna be able to stay awake long enough to make sure it went out.

Diamond looked at the sleeping faces of those around them, then felt a sigh flee their lips impulsively. Everyone looked so peaceful, calm and quiet for once. Even Ace was resting, wrapped up safely in Jester’s embrace, who’d whispered promises he’d protect him from any nightmares he had. It was so sappy it almost made Diamond’s heart ache a little, but nevertheless they were happy to see them so happy together.

They still couldn’t help but feel… burdened. 

Not that anything was wrong with anyone with them at the moment. It’s just…

Diamond flicked their eyes over to Alice, who was using her pink cape as a thin blanket, curled up on top of some soft piles of material her and Butterfly gathered. And yet, they knew what they were looking for and missing...

Oliver.

Diamond reflected back to the brief shouting match they got into with Alice at their last stop, feeling a twinge of guilt run through them. They had made up by now, but every now and then Diamond couldn’t help but think back to what she’d been so upset about, the hurt in her eyes and the pain in her voice.

“How could you?!” She screamed. “How could you think Oliver, your own son, would do something like this?!”

In truth, it’s been a miscommunication. Diamond didn’t think Oliver was guilty of any crime being held against him, which is why they were on the way to his rescue. Diamond had explained themself when things simmered down afterward, and they made up with tears and hugs. But Diamond wondered how long she’d been like this, feeling so lonely and holding up on her own. They’d known they’d gotten caught up searching for Oliver when he first went missing, but… had they abandoned her? They didn’t bring it up right then, not willing to push more painful conversation onto her, but…

Was Diamond just terrible at this whole parent thing?

...It’s too late in the night. They watched as the last flame from the fire died out, along with their thoughts.

They should sleep.


	10. frail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kroe and Mika talk after the big incident.

Blythe looked ghostly pale, nearly bed sheet white skin and the skin around his eyes reddened from the tears. Mika and Kroe had done what they could to help ease the pain, but good grief, some pastel strips of fabric and popping a few drugstore pills wasn’t going to do much for someone whose bones were literally shattered in their arm.

Mika sat back, both he and Kroe opting to stay with Blythe for the night just to prevent any more troubles or potential conflict. Kroe was dabbing an ice cold cloth to his cheekbone, where a bright red mark and forming bruise were blossoming on the skin. His lip was slightly busted, and Mika could hear him groan every time he moved. Constellation and him got into a full blown brawl after the initial incident of Blythe breaking his arm and that bastard “magician” making a mockery of his pain. Of course, Mallow had broken it up—saying they had no proof Constellation pushed Blythe off the ladder while Kroe screamed till his voice sounded strained that he’d seen him do it.

“Jeez…” Kroe hissed, tossing the cloth aside. “My throat is killing me. Probably from cursing that  _ rat _ out.”

Mika pushed himself up right, looking at him.

“Want some tea? I could brew you a hot cup.”

Kroe seemed to contemplate his offer before shaking his head.

“Nah. Thank you, though. Just tired at this point. Tired of this fucking circus.”

Mika opted not to comment on that. Better not to stir him up anymore, and rather looked at Blythe, who was resting.

“...Why does he even hate Blythe so much? What did he do?”

Kroe sighed, wincing as he laid down on the pile of blankets he’d made on the floor. He tucked his legs under himself some and then threw a blanket on top of himself. He reminded Mika of a bird sitting in a nest.

“Nothing,” Kroe replied. “The only thing he’s guilty of is breathing the same air as him.”


	11. dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pixel has a nightmare, and Shay does his best to comfort and understand him.

He doesn’t stop dreaming of the hospital.

Pixel finds it embarrassing how he wakes up with his hair and clothes matted to his skin from the excessive sweating he’d done in his restless sleep. The room he’s in is incredibly unfamiliar until his blurry vision focuses better, and he calms down if only a little upon realizing where he was.

He doesn’t really fall asleep at night, so when his eyes fly open, he’s shaken up to see the sun was down and he wasn’t awake. He’s mainly nocturnal, feeling more productive at night than he ever has during daytime.

He just fucking hates he can’t seem to let go of the miserable time he had as a human. He’s not sure if Shay is awake, but he knows he wants to get up and walk around for a few minutes to try and settle the absurd speed of his heart in his chest. Memories of the bad episodes he had, the seizures, the puking, the breathlessness—they sit in his core like burning lava and make his throat burn and itch with the need to cry out.

He felt like a little kid all over again, scared and unaware of what was happening to him. He remembers the cold and dead stare of horror Poetry gave him when his symptoms got worse, and he can’t help but think—God, how  _ lucky _ he is to have made it out of that alive. 

Just… not as human as he was before, he thinks while running the tip of his tongue over the sharp points of his teeth.

He pushes aside the unbearably hot blankets and swings his feet over the edge of the bed, standing up and exhaling slowly, trying to get rid of the boiling nerves in his stomach. He’s considered therapy for a long time now, but he’s not sure if he’s ready to talk about it. Even the slightest mention of his time back in that hospital was disgusting to him. He just didn’t want to remember when he was sick. He just didn’t want to remember seeing his family weep over the idea of him dying. 

He just… wants to forget.

He walks out of the room and out into the narrow hall, where he passes Hex’s room into the kitchen and opens the fridge. Even if he’s staying at Shay’s place tonight, and Shay said he was more than welcome to take what he wants from the house “food” wise, he still feels guilty as he takes out a blood bag and throws it into the microwave. Cold blood was gross, after all.

He doesn’t mean to slam the door of the microwave as hard as he did and he winces, then shakes some sense into himself. Jesus, he’s mad at the fact that he had a nightmare about being deathly ill in the hospital, not mad at a kitchen appliance.

When it’s done heating, he takes it out and bites straight into it with no hesitance. It’s a little too hot, burning his tongue, but he doesn’t care at this moment. Feeding comforts him strangely enough, similar to how someone might be comforted by hugs or blankets. It’s a new sensation he’s gained ever since making the change, but not entirely unwelcome.

“You’re up?”

He freezes midswallow of his snack, then looks up slowly to meet Shay’s eyes. 

Shay has on comfy clothing, his arms crossed as he leans against the doorway. His beanie he usually wears is not on his messy split dyed hair, looking more relaxed than usual.

“Uh… yeah. Just hungry.”

“You sure? You look like you were crying.”

Impulsively, Pixel turns his head away and rubs at his eyes. He didn’t realize how raw the skin on his cheeks and the tip of his nose were… he must have been absentmindedly rubbing at them. He exhales slowly, tossing the bag away in the trash and looks at Shay, trying to gather himself up in one piece.

“Yeah, just… I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Shay pursed his lips and looked him up and down, showing that he clearly didn’t believe him for a second. Pixel really didn’t feel like having this conversation right now, with his stomach settled from doing back flips from the anxiety he runs his hand through his hair and tries to wait out the heavy awkwardness that settles over the two of them. The last thing he wanted to do was have a Come to Jesus meeting with the guy he just fairly recently became good friends with. Plus, he just didn’t vibe with the idea of burdening him with the traumas of his past. Shay knew to some degree what Pixel had endured as a human, but never bothered or insisted he be told fully what happened. It’s definitely his way of respecting his privacy and he appreciated it, but he could tell right here and now that Shay was worried about him. 

“I want to believe you,” Shay finally said, “but you… kinda look terrible.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, Pix. Dude, come on. You wanna hang out for a bit?”

Well… Pixel knows he has the option, but part of him won’t even acknowledge he can say no because he doesn’t want to worry him anymore than he already clearly has. He doesn’t mean to act so dodgy or like he doesn’t  _ want _ to share, it’s just… so much at once that he’s afraid he’s going to put a dent in their friendship or something.

In the end, he finds himself squatting comfortably on a bean bag Shay has laid out in the middle of his room as Shay tosses him a controller for his gaming console. It’s a wonderful thing to take his mind off of the hellscape his nightmare had been, smashing buttons in repetition and excited but also hurriedly hushed shouting when they remember that Hex is a few feet away in another room asleep.

Two boss fights cleared later and a few cans of carbonated blood cracked open later, Pixel is leaning back against the cushion of the bean bag with a sigh. Shay is turning the console off as Pixel crushes the metal can that’s in his hand, tossing it toward the direction of the trash can in the corner of the room. Shay sighs as he sits on the floor next to Pixel, crossing his legs and appearing as if he’s contemplating his next choice of words.

“Doing better?”

Pixel knows what he’s regarding, but instead of avoiding the question, he bites his lower lip gently so he doesn’t cut the thin skin with his fangs and then rolls on his side to face him.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I didn’t mean to… freak you out, if I did. I just had a bad dream is all.”

“It happens often?”

Pixel shrugs. “Not… really, but also not to say it doesn’t. Just… man, growing up fucking sucked.”

Shay raised an eyebrow, but after a moment of thinking it seems to click in his head. He looks away, running a hand through his hair and messing up stray pieces of it.

“Oh, you mean…”

Pixel doesn’t need him to finish the thought.

“...Yeah. I just… God, some days I wonder if… i-if…”

“Pix…”

He sits up right, clenching his fists into the fabric of the bean bag.

“Some days I wonder if I really would have died if I stayed a human, you know? I didn’t know what else to do cause I felt trapped and like I had no chance to live, but I was just a scared kid, man, I was so _fucking_ _scared—_ “

Pixel feels his lower lip quiver and his eyes sting with the threat of tears. In that moment, he remembers everything too vividly: the poking of the IV on every part of each of his arms till they were sore and raw, waking up confused, weak, and dazed from the seizures, the inability to keep food down and the raw sensation of bile burning his throat every time he tried. He feels like that sickly kid again, too weak to keep fighting, and in that moment before he realizes it, two warm and comforting arms wrap around him and pull him close.

Pixel inhales the familiar scent of Shay’s preferred cologne sticking to his clothes and skin, memorizing the sensation of his warmth and closeness. It’s enough to pull him back to Earth, in the present, if not only temporarily. He exhales gently, face pressing into Shay’s shoulder as the other man holds him tightly. 

“I’m glad you’re here now,” Shay says softly but confidently. “You know I got your back, man. I know you can’t erase the past, and since I was born a vampire, I don’t understand human sickness, but… you have every right to be upset and scared of what you went through.”

Shay pulls back, smiling in the soft light.

“Just know that I’m here, for whenever and whatever you need. You don’t have to tell me everything, of course. I just want to be here for you, Pix.”

The sentiment is so wholesome and real that Pixel starts crying all over again, making Shay fret in fear he may have said something wrong, but when Pixel reassures him he appreciates everything he’s said, they hug again.

Pixel sleeps peacefully the next time he stays over, oddly comforted by Shay’s presence in the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan Shay 2k20

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully it lets me edit notes so I can make a table of contents or smthing lmao.
> 
> chapter 1 - holes (kroe & blythe)  
> chapter 2 - monster (blythe, kroe, & constellation)  
> chapter 3 - annoyed (Cromwell)  
> chapter 4 - finger (Astaroath, mentions of Abdiel and Alastair)  
> chapter 5 - clown (Constellation & Mallow)


End file.
